This Love
by LittleCajunLady88
Summary: When Scott taught Malia how to shift again, she decided to return to the woods to live her life as a coyote. Months later, she returns to Beacon Hills, completely changing Stiles's way of life in the process.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _This story takes place after the events of season 3B, set during the summer before their senior year. It sticks mostly to canon events, except that Allison is still alive (I just didn't have the heart to kill her in my first Teen Wolf fic) and Isaac is still there too. And of course Malia's story will be a very different from what we know so far about season 4. I also kind of blatantly ignore the whole "Malia is Peter's daughter" thing here because I'd rather see how the show handles it and focus instead on the story I want to tell._

_And now that you're all caught up, I hope you like this!_

* * *

"Are we sure Malia's actually here?" Stiles asked as he and Scott walked through one of the many wooded areas of Beacon Hills.

"Isaac was sure he heard her howling in these woods last night. He said she sounded weird, like sad or something."

"Why would she be sad? She wanted to be a coyote again and now she is. Has been for months now."

Stiles couldn't help the small amount of bitterness present in his voice. Just a few days after the Nogitsune had finally been taken care of, Malia returned to collect on Stiles's promise. He took her to Scott, who taught her how to shift back and forth at will in only two weeks. In that amount of time, Stiles and Malia had gotten to know each other a little bit better as well.

"Stiles," she'd sighed with pleasure as he left a trail of kisses down her neck, "we aren't going to have sex again."

"Okay." He hooked a finger in the neck of her T-shirt and pulled it down. As his mouth met the space between her breasts, she let out a frustrated growl and yanked him up by his ears.

"_Oh my G –"_

"I mean it, Stilinski! What happened at Eichen House, it was a onetime thing, all right? It was a heat of the moment, you about to be repossessed by an evil fox spirit, bizarre rite of passage . . . thing."

"Wow. That was really specific."

"Can you be serious for a second? We barely know each other, and I just think we could get to know each other in more . . . non-naked ways."

"I'll be honest, that doesn't sound nearly as fun to me." When she scoffed and pushed him off of her, his expression finally turned serious. "Okay, okay, you're right. We rushed it. So if you're not ready to do it again, we won't."

"Good," she smiled, running a hand through his hair before letting it settle on the nape of his neck. "I knew there was a reason I mildly tolerated you."

"Yeah, so . . . we're still gonna make out though, right?"

"Obviously." She brought his mouth down to hers, kissing him hard. They sank deeper into his bed, pulling the sheet over them as they laughed.

They'd done more than just fool around in their short time together. She opened up a bit more about her family, sharing good memories as well as sad ones. He told her about how much his life had changed ever since werewolves had entered the picture. In moments of sudden sadness or guilt, he even brought up the Nogitsune a time or two, completely unprompted by her. They were forming a tentative friendship, albeit a friendship that also included many physical benefits.

Neither one of them tried to define what they were doing. All Stiles knew was that he liked her. She was beautiful and tough and had a dark sense of humor that he really appreciated. All Malia knew was that she liked him too. He was kind of cute and nervous, with a smart mouth and nice hands. Neither one of them was falling in love. His heart still belonged to Lydia, of course, and hers belonged to the woods she'd called her home for so many years. Despite that, anyone could see the two had a comfortableness and undeniable chemistry between them. Stiles had hoped that would be enough to get her to stay.

It wasn't. Even though she had managed to become friendly with everyone in Scott's pack, she still didn't want to be human. Unfortunately, Stiles knew a thing or two about guilt now, and he knew hers was still eating away at her. He tried to convince her that he and the rest of the pack would help her with the adjustment. He and the others took her under their wing and reminded her of all the wonderful things about being human she would miss. Even though she was having fun, and even enjoying all of the new people in her life, it still didn't matter in the end.

Once Malia was absolutely sure she could properly control the shift, she returned to the woods that would soon be her home again and said her goodbyes to everyone there. She saved her goodbye with Stiles for last, after everyone else had retreated to give them a moment alone. He opened his mouth, but she stopped him with a kiss. The kiss was soft and sweet, devoid of their usual passion.

Stiles was the one who eventually broke the kiss. "You know, if you stayed human, we could do this all the time."

"I thought you were trying to convince me to _stay_."

His mouth quirked in the corner despite himself, but his expression was soon somber again. "Don't you want to see what this could be?"

"Stiles, I already know what this _is_. We're a distraction for each other."

He hoped his face didn't show how much that stung."How's that?"

"You're a distraction by helping me forget for a little while that I don't belong in this place anymore, in this body. And . . . and I'm the perfect distraction for you not being able to be with the girl you're really in love with."

He looked away, unable to deny it. He nodded, begrudgingly accepting her choice. "So you're really doing this."

"I'm really doing this." Malia gave him one last kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye Stiles."

He didn't say it back. Instead, he turned around and walked away once she kicked off her shoes and started to take off her shirt. He didn't want to see it. But once he was sure she had made the shift, he looked back just in time to see a coyote running off into the distance.

That had been almost eight months ago. Nobody had seen or heard from her since that day, not even a howl in the distance on a full moon. And now that Isaac had heard some mournful cry in the woods, they were supposed to investigate? Stiles had spent months worrying about her, but once it truly became apparent that she wasn't coming back, he'd done his best to let her go. All he could feel for her now was the disappointment of a lost opportunity.

Stiles wiped away the sweat that was running into his eyes. Walking around in the woods in late June wasn't exactly his idea of a fun time. "Come on, we've been following her trail for a couple of hours now. She clearly doesn't want to be found. And this is not how I wanted to spend a Saturday."

Scott, always earnest, said, "But what if she needs our help?"

"She never wanted our help to begin with, Scott."

He nodded, looking slightly guilty. "We'll just check up on her. If she's fine, then we'll leave her alone."

Twenty minutes later, Scott stopped dead in his tracks as he sniffed at the air. "That's the end of the trail. She has to be around here somewhere." Then he spotted her, laying some 50 yards away at the base of a tree. He ran to her, Stiles following behind.

The coyote was still. "Are-are we sure that's even her?" Stiles asked, clearly hoping Scott was wrong but knowing he couldn't be.

"It's definitely her. Malia? Can you hear me?"

"Is she – is she dead?"

Scott reached out an unsteady hand to touch her. She growled softly at the advance, though it was more pitiful than intimidating, and they both breathed a sigh of relief at the small sign of life. Scott touched the soft fur on her right side, and his hand rose and fell rapidly due to her labored breathing. They watched as spidery black lines formed on Scott's skin.

"She's in pain."

"Maybe she got shot. Is there, like, a wound or broken bone or something?"

"No wound. No blood." Scott ran a careful hand along her limbs, but he didn't feel a break. "Her legs seem fine. Maybe she's just sick. We should bring her to Deaton."

"Only we would bring our sick friends to a veterinarian. Wait, what are you doing?" Stiles asked as he watched Scott lift Malia. "You're bringing her like that?"

"Did you want to carry her?"

"No, I mean as a coyote. You should howl, and then she could just tell us what's wrong."

"I don't know if it'll work now that she's unconscious," he said, displaying how limp she was in his arms. "And I don't want to do anything that could make it worse."

Scott started walking swiftly, and Stiles struggled to keep up, all the while still arguing. "Okay, that's a good point, except there's gonna be a friggin' coyote in my jeep! Not to be insensitive, but the last time she took a little car ride like that, it didn't turn out too well."

"It'll be fine."

"_Fine?!_ Scott, she could wake up at any moment and bite our faces off!"

"I think she's in too much pain to do anything right now."

Stiles stopped short, looking down at his unconscious friend lying there in Scott's arms. They needed to help her, he knew that. But being Stiles, he had to argue the point, even when he ultimately agreed. "Fine, but if I end up as a werecoyote chew toy, I'm gonna be so pissed."

* * *

**A/N: **I love the show, but I never thought I'd write a Teen Wolf fic. But then season 3B turned my love into obsession, so I needed to write something. This is also my first attempt at a chapter fic, ever, so I'm a little nervous about it. Anyway, I hoped you liked it! Reviews/favs are always welcome. And if anyone has a question they'd like me to answer or wants to talk about writing, I'd like that too. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Sorry this chapter took a little while to get up. This ended up being so much harder to write than I thought it was going to be. I really struggled with this one, so I hope it's up to snuff! Also, here's a small warning: I _personally_ wouldn't consider this to be all that graphic, but without giving too much away, there is a medical situation in here. Just a heads up if you're squeamish about that kind of stuff._

_And here we go . . ._

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Stiles's jeep came to a screeching stop at the veterinary clinic. Scott carefully lifted Malia out of the backseat. "See, no problems. Our faces are still intact."

"Yeah, let's just get her inside before you jinx it," Stiles said as he ran ahead to open the door for him. They rushed inside and Scott called out, "Doc?"

Deaton appeared from the back room and approached them. He put a gentle hand on Malia. "How has she been since you called?"

"Mostly the same, drifting in and out of consciousness, but then she started whining a couple of minutes ago. I think her pain is getting worse."

"Let's get her in the back."

Scott laid her on a table in the exam room. He and Stiles watched anxiously as Deaton examined her. He shined a bright light in her eyes, checked her gums, and cleared her throat. He searched every inch of her and saw nothing external that could be causing her pain. Then the slight bulging of her abdomen caught his eye.

"Got anything yet?"

"You were right," Deaton said. "I don't see any wounds or feel any broken bones. But if you notice, her abdomen looks distended. What are some usual causes of that?"

"She could have swallowed too much air by eating too quickly," Scott answered. "Intestinal blockage, fluid build-up, a cyst –"

"Very good," he replied as he began to feel her belly.

"Yeah, Scott, great job. What a wonderful teaching moment, you guys. Now could you just _fix_ her already?" Stiles knew he was being snarky, but he couldn't help it. The longer her ailment took to diagnose, the more it worried him.

Deaton continued feeling her abdomen. At a certain spot, his hands suddenly stilled. Scott noticed his surprised expression even though it only lasted for the briefest moment. "Doc?"

"Scott, can you get the portable ultrasound machine? I feel . . . a mass."

"A mass?" Stiles asked, "Like a tumor or something?"

"Possibly," he said, though his tone was oddly non-committal. Scott handed him the ultrasound machine and Deaton ran the wand along her abdomen, trying to get a clear picture. What he saw confirmed his suspicions and suddenly the vet became a flurry of action, handing the machine back to Scott and gathering medical supplies.

"Deaton, what –"

"Stiles, cover her with that blanket. Scott, I need you to howl, right now. She needs to be human for me to help her."

Stiles threw a blanket over her while Scott turned, his eyes glowing bright red. Scott shook her gently, calling her name until her eyes opened. Then he howled, and she started to shift back to human almost immediately. Within moments, Malia was a human girl again, curled up under the blanket.

She looked up at Scott, her features pinched in confusion. "Scott? Where are we? What's going on?" The last thing she remembered was making the decision to return to Beacon Hills, though she wasn't entirely sure why. Instinct maybe? And there had been pain, so much pain. She remembered that too.

It was Stiles who answered her question, causing her to turn her head in surprise at the sound of his voice. She managed a weak smile at the sight of him. "We found you unconscious in the woods. You seemed hurt so we brought you here."

"Hi Malia," Deaton said in his most soothing doctor voice. "I'm Deaton, remember? How do you feel?"

"Really awful actually," she answered, her voice quaking. Her skin was pallid, and her whole body was trembling.

"What's wrong with her?"

Deaton ignored Stiles's question, his total focus on his patient. "I'm going to tell what's happening. It'll be a big shock, but I promise that I will help you."

Malia looked between Stiles's and Scott's confused expressions and Deaton's gravely serious one, and her anxiety grew exponentially. She didn't like the sound of that at all. "What is it? What's – _ah_!" The pain was so sudden and brutal that she cried out, curling in on herself even more. "What's happening?" she asked through gritted teeth. "Why does it hurt so much?"

"Let this pass first," he said. Let it pass? She couldn't imagine how or why it would, but nearly a minute later the pain faded away.

"Is it over?" he asked. She only nodded her head, her eyes still tightly shut. "Malia, you're in labor."

At first, that meant nothing to her. In labor? But then a foggy memory resurfaced, one of her hearing her mother groaning in pain behind a closed bedroom door as she gave birth to her little sister. Being in labor would mean that she's pregnant, and she definitely wasn't pregnant . . . right? She looked over at Stiles first, and he appeared about as disbelieving as she felt. Scott had a totally dumbfounded expression on his face, his mouth hanging open as he glanced between her and Stiles.

While Malia's reaction was confusion quickly followed by denial, Stiles only felt complete and utter panic. At the words "in labor," that familiar ringing began in his ears. His hands started to shake, his vision growing slightly blurry as he tried to draw in a breath that the pain in his chest just wouldn't allow. Malia was not only pregnant but actually going to give birth today, at any moment. He silently cursed himself for doing this to her, to both of them.

"Malia?" Deaton said, interrupting both teenagers' racing thoughts, "Did you know you were pregnant?"

She looked at Deaton as if he was the one who was confused. He had to be, because the alternative was too terrifying to contemplate. "No, I, I've been a coyote for months. I –" she was choking on her words. "Are you sure? This has to be a mistake. I'm not pregnant."

Deaton motioned for Scott to give him the portable ultrasound machine. "It might be difficult to get a good picture now that you're human, but it should work well enough to see it." He pulled the blanket aside only enough to put the wand on her belly again. When he got a clear picture, he turned it around so the others could see. And right there on the small screen was a baby, just as he'd said there'd be.

Neither one of them could ignore the reality of their situation with proof like that. In a daze, his eyes never leaving the screen, Stiles moved closer to put a hand on her shoulder. Malia barely felt his touch; her whole body had gone numb in that moment. She frantically pulled the blanket aside to see her belly for herself. It wasn't very big at all, but there was an unmistakable roundness that could only mean one thing. With a shaking hand, she touched her stomach, and suddenly the weight of everything was all too much.

"Oh God." Her eyes filled tears. Frantically, she thought, _this can't be happening_. She didn't want this to be happening. The horrible cramping was starting to return, and she could feel herself shifting, becoming a coyote again. That was what she wanted, to be a coyote again and pretend this wasn't happening. "No, no, no –"

"Malia, don't –" Stiles said when he noticed her eyes start to glow, but she pushed him away, sending him staggering back. At that moment she felt more animal than human, her fear giving way to anger and wildness.

"Scott, we can't let her turn. If she does we'll lose them both."

Scott took hold of her flailing arms and howled again. She stopped fighting, and her eyes returned to their normal shade of dark brown. Scott lowered her tense body back onto the table. Malia took a moment to catch her breath, to find a way to calm her racing thoughts. She looked at Scott, then Stiles, who looked as wary as a kicked puppy. "I'm sorry. I didn't – _ah_!" She cried out in pain again as the contraction reached its peak.

Deaton checked his watch. "That was only a minute and a half. This baby is coming right now. Malia, are you feeling a lot of pressure, like you want to push?"

"Y – ah, ye –" The pain was so intense she could no longer speak. Once the contraction started to subside she pleaded to Deaton, "Please, I want it out."

"I'm going to help you." He gave her a reassuring smile before he and Scott continued to gather all of the supplies they would need.

"Have you ever delivered a baby before?" Stiles asked nervously. Seeing Malia that way had unnerved him. He felt like he was about to be sick, and the sudden flurry of movement was making him dizzy.

"One or two."

"Of course you have."

"Scott, do you have everything?" Deaton wondered as he turned on an overhead light.

Scott had just finished lining up the sterilized instruments on a tray. "Everything's here."

"Good. Malia, we've got to get you into a better position. I need you to sit up as much as you can and move closer to the edge of the table, okay? I'm afraid I don't have anywhere more comfortable for you to do this. Stiles, you stand behind her and support her weight."

Stiles helped her sit up and stood behind her, his hands braced on her shoulders. "Lean back on me if you need to."

She practically collapsed against his chest, surprising him, but he took her weight. She looked up at him, her bottom lip trembling. Finally addressing him since this whole thing had started, she asked, "Stiles, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know." He wished he didn't sound so terrified, for her sake at least. He pushed her sweaty hair away from her face and then adjusted the blanket from behind to cover her better. "We'll figure it out. One thing at a time, okay?"

Malia nodded, then suddenly cringed and lurched forward. "_Ah!"_

"Deaton!" Stiles cried.

Deaton finished pulling on a fresh glove and stood between her dangling feet. He put a hand under her right knee and started to lift it. "Scott, help me get her feet onto the table. Get her knee up, just like I'm doing."

Scott followed Deaton's instruction, lifting her left leg as gently as possible and setting her foot on the table. Deaton pushed the blanket up to her upper thighs. "I'm going to take a look now, okay?"

"Just do it." Malia already had very little modesty on a good day, and this wasn't one. She honestly didn't care who saw what. She just wanted the pain to stop.

Deaton adjusted the light and looked between her legs. "I can see the very top of the head. Is the pain still intense?"

She nodded fervently.

"Let's try pushing. You can push while counting down from ten, take a few breaths, and you'll keep doing that until the contraction stops."

Malia nodded again to show she understood, and then looked back at Stiles. "Count."

"Wha – _me_?!"

"Count!" yelled both Scott and Deaton.

"_Okay_! Ten! Nine! Eight –"

And she pushed. She made it through that contraction and two more the same way, with Stiles counting down and Deaton's words of encouragement helping her along. She screamed her way through it, but they stayed trapped behind pursed lips and gritted teeth. With each throaty scream she pulled him closer, reaching behind her to take hold of the neck of the old "Jawesome" T-shirt he wearing, effectively stretching it out beyond repair. At one point she had pulled him down so far that his forehead came to rest at her temple as she worked, so that only she was in his field of vision. He winced in sympathy at every cry and grimace on her face that he couldn't help but see so up close and personal.

As she rested between contractions, he finally braved a glance and his eyes landed on a smear of blood on her inner thigh. "Oh God, I had to look, didn't I? That was blood. That was definitely blood." He hung his head as he took in shuddering gasps of air, his vision going fuzzy around the edges again.

Scott noticed his friend had grown even paler. "Stiles, are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure, don't worry about me," he panted. "It's just – the blood –"

"Don't you dare faint," Malia ordered. Before he could assure her that he wouldn't dare, he felt her body tense up again. Stiles automatically started to count and she pushed, but he only made it to four before she gasped and crashed back against him. "No, I can't do it anymore!"

"Come on, you have to keep going," Deaton said.

"It hurts too much. I ca – I can't –" She couldn't even get out the rest. She already felt stretched way beyond capacity, and she didn't know how she could do more than she was already doing.

"It hurts so much because the baby's head is crowning. This is hardest part. But if you can just get past this, the rest will come easier."

"I can't do it."

"Malia, look at me." Deaton moved in closer to look her in the face. "It's an unbelievable pain, isn't it? Doing this feels impossible? I promise you that it isn't, and the pain will stop. Just get through this moment and it'll be over soon."

The thought steeled her and she tried again, but Stiles didn't even make it to six before she gave in again. Malia hadn't known there could be pain like this. She could feel herself starting to panic, as it seemed that anyone feeling this much pain should be dying, not giving life. She couldn't stop the sobs that escaped her raw throat, or the tears that slid down cheeks. At that point, both teenage boys were teary-eyed as well.

"Can I help her?" Scott asked, his voice shaking with emotion.

Deaton looked between those three sad faces. They were children who'd already had to deal with so many things beyond their years and now this. He nodded solemnly and said, "Yes, but only for a few seconds. I know it seems cruel, but she needs to feel them."

Scott immediately put a hand on her knee, and for the second time that day, he watched the spidery black lines crawl up his arm. This time he felt some of what she was feeling. The pain was sudden, hitting him like a wave crashing down on him, and just when it felt like he could get his breath, another wave would come. Scott felt it ripple across his stomach, and a deep, throbbing ache settled in his hips and his groin. He managed to hold on another five seconds before Deaton pulled his hand away.

For Malia, the relief was immediate. Oh, the pain was still there and even still awful, but somehow more manageable. The intense tightening in her lower abdomen didn't feel quite so vice like, and the diminished pressure in her pelvis made it feel less like she was being ripped in two. The hazy fog had cleared from her mind a bit, and somehow doing this didn't seem quite so impossible anymore.

"Thank you," she told Scott, breathless with relief. "You can stay."

Scott smiled, "I'm not going anywhere." Stiles caught Scott's eye and nodded once. The look of gratitude on his face was so apparent he didn't have to say it. Scott nodded back his own wordless, _You're welcome_.

"Malia," Deaton said, trying to gain her attention again. "Keep going."

It was amazing what a little pain management could do for her resolve. She pushed as hard as she could, and by the end of the next contraction Deaton was supporting the baby's head in his hands.

"I need you stop pushing now."

"No," she grunted as she continued to push, even though she could feel the contraction waning.

"We don't want it to come too fast –"

"I want it out!" she cried. "Please, just get it out."

"I don't want you to hurt yourself. Rest first, and if you give me one more really good push, then this will all be over, okay?"

She let out a frustrated yell and crashed back against Stiles, but she did as she was told, especially when Stiles whispered against her hair a simple, "_Please_." When the last contraction came, she pushed with everything she had. She could hear Deaton say, "I've got a shoulder," and "slower, Malia," but she was so focused that she paid him no mind. He'd said she only had to make it through one more, so she would hold him to it.

After the other shoulder was delivered, she felt a tug as Deaton pulled the baby from her body. The moment the baby passed through her, she felt a powerful rush of adrenaline, a rush that left her skin tingling and her breath stilted. It was as if all of the blood in her body was flooding her brain and overwhelming her senses, making her unable to focus on anything other than what was happening to her own body.

When Stiles heard Deaton say, "We've got a baby," he literally went weak in the knees. He couldn't believe he'd actually witnessed someone give birth, and even less so that it was his own baby with Malia. _Their baby_. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. To imagine himself with a child was too big, too abstract a concept to actually be real. But there it was, right in front of his eyes, an actual baby he'd helped create. Stiles could only make out its tiny legs before he quickly turned away. If the baby wasn't alive, he wasn't sure he could handle seeing something like that.

Scott held a clean towel at the ready and Deaton placed the baby inside. The baby tried to cry, but its attempts sounded wet and gurgling. Deaton used to a bulb syringe to suction out its mouth and nose. Next, he clamped off the umbilical cord.

"Scott, cut the cord."

"What?" He glanced over at Stiles, as if asking permission. Stiles nodded. Scott took a deep breath, grabbed the umbilical cord scissors, and with a slightly shaky hand he cut through it. As soon as the baby was detached, Deaton took it to another table, his back to the others to hide it from view. Scott joined him, handing him everything he asked for.

"Stiles, I need to lie down."

He'd been watching Deaton so intently that the sound of her voice startled him. He looked down at her and saw how pale and tired she looked. He laid her down as gently as possible. "Are you okay? Are you still in pain?"

"Not like before," she said groggily. She was crashing fast. "But I ache everywhere."

At that moment the baby started to cry, and it was a surprisingly strong. Stiles's heart leapt in his chest at the welcome sound. "That's quite a set of lungs for a preemie," Deaton said, smiling back at Stiles and Malia. "This baby can't be more than five pounds, which makes me think it's at least a month early, but it appears to be breathing fine on its own."

"So it's okay?" Stiles asked. When Deaton assured him the baby was fine, he was sure he'd never felt such an intense feeling of relief.

"And there's one more thing, but I'll let Scott do the honors."

Scott looked at his best friend with tears in his eyes and a grin on his face. "It's a girl."

"A girl?" And with that, it wasn't just an "it." It was no longer just "the baby." _It_ was now a _she_, a daughter. Stiles turned to Malia in wonder. "Did you hear that? It's a girl."

She nodded as silent tears fell from the corners of her eyes. Deaton brought the bundled baby over to her. "Malia, do you want to hold her?"

She turned away from them all. "No. I – I don't want to see her."

"Malia –"

"Stiles, I don't want to see her, okay?" She was crying in earnest then. He tried to touch her, to comfort her, but she shrunk away from him.

Deaton went over to Stiles instead. "Would you like to hold her?"

"I . . ." Honestly, he was terrified. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even held a baby. But a sad glance at Malia convinced him to try. He figured at least one of them should hold her. "Yeah, I'll take her."

He put the baby into Stiles's arms. "Why don't you take her out of here so I can look after Malia. Scott, you go with them and make sure to listen to her breathing. Get me right away if there are any problems."

Stiles barely had any time to appreciate the fact that he was really holding her before Scott was guiding him out of the room. He managed one last glance at Malia and saw that her body was still shaking with barely suppressed sobs. Even though he was reluctant to leave her in that state, he did as he was told. He turned away and left her there with Deaton.

* * *

**A/N: **Well? *waits nervously* I know a pregnant Malia is a well-worn concept, but there was a reason I couldn't let this idea go. A few years ago I came up with this story about a human man/werewolf woman who go through this same situation. I soon realized it was never going to get past the idea faze, but I still wanted to write it somehow, in some way. Then that (possible) sex scene between Stiles and Malia happened, and it sort of felt like the perfect opportunity to finally write it. Generally I'm not even into pregnancy storylines in my TV shows, but in fic for some reason I can get into it. And I'm also really fascinated by the whole "I didn't know I was pregnant" phenomenon and just really wanted to try my hand at writing it.

Okay, I'll stop rambling now. Thanks for reading, and for everyone who reviews and favorites. It's great encouragement when writing gets too hard.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_You ever just write and rewrite and edit and then edit some more and finally you can't look at it anymore so you just set it free and hope for the best? Yeah? Okay then. Also, upon finishing this chapter, I realized this story might end up being a bit longer than I anticipated. Anyway, enjoy!_

* * *

Once Stiles and Scott had left with the baby, Deaton began to poke and prod her, but Malia's face remained expressionless throughout. In fact, she was so lost in her own thoughts that she was hardly aware of Deaton at all. She didn't feel present in her own mind, in her own body. But when the dull cramping returned a few minutes later, followed by the expulsion of the afterbirth, she was brought crashing back to reality. She started to panic, not sure what was happening to her.

"You're okay," Deaton said, doing his best to calm her. "That was just the placenta. Your body is working extra hard to heal itself. The bleeding is light, the tearing minimal. I'd say that with some rest, within a couple of hours you may be completely healed . . ."

Malia tuned him out again. She didn't want to hear about placentas and tearing and blood. She couldn't deal with any of it. Once again, her body was betraying her. First, it had gone from girl to coyote and caused her to kill her family. Then she'd gotten used to being a coyote, only to have Stiles and Scott come along and change her back. But by then her human body didn't feel like hers anymore, which had only made her feel worse at its refusal to change back to a coyote. And now her body was doing more things without her consent or knowledge – growing a baby inside it, birthing it, and then by leaving her brain swirling with so many hormones that she couldn't get her emotions under control. She felt as if she'd never come to trust her body again.

"Will I still feel like . . . this?" She didn't know how to describe what she meant. All she knew was that she felt so tired and gross and miserable and _why_ couldn't she stop crying?

"Ah, unfortunately, the surge of hormones will be with you for a few days at the very least, possibly weeks." Once he was done taking care of her, he covered her with a fresh blanket and began cleaning and reorganizing the exam room.

Her mind was at war with itself. One part was so worried about the baby, hoping that she was healthy. That part of her brain didn't know why she hadn't wanted to hold or even look at her baby. But then the other part wanted to live in ignorance. Good or bad, it didn't want to know. Still, she managed to ask, "What about the baby?"

"She'll need to go to the hospital soon to be sure she's healthy."

"Do you really think she'll be okay?"

"I do."

"That's good." And she meant it. No longer able to fight it, her eyes closed and she immediately fell asleep. It was a fitful sleep, however, and every noise Deaton made woke her again and again. She was aware when he finally left her in the room alone, and when she opened her eyes they glowed bright blue.

* * *

Stiles paced up and down the small space behind the swinging doors in the reception area, the baby held snuggly against his chest. Scott's eyes followed him, and he could actually smell the anxiety coming off of his best friend. "Stiles, maybe you shouldn't walk so fast –"

"What in the hell am I going to do?" Stiles asked as he stopped in his tracks to face Scott after over five minutes of frenzied pacing. "Is this some kind of nightmare I can't wake up from?"

"If it is then I'm having it too."

"But did that really just happen?" Stiles sputtered. "Did we _actually_ just watch Malia give birth to a baby that none of us, including her, even knew existed?"

"Yes."

"No, it's not possible. I mean, our lives are crazy, but this?!"

"It's not that hard to believe. It happens to normal, human women all the time."

"Yeah, but not to me, okay? Not to Malia. Not to two screwed up teenagers who lost their virginities on a musty old couch in the basement of an insane asylum! And it definitely doesn't happen to a girl who then lived as a coyote for months!" He paused. "Well, when I say it all together like that . . ."

"Come on, man," Scott said, going over to clap his friend on the shoulder. "Everything is going to be okay."

"You don't actually believe that."

"I do. I know everything is screwed up right now, but you'll figure it out."

"Scott, I have a_ kid_."

"Yeah, I know." He then had the audacity to smile.

If Stiles had the ability to feel anything other than sheer terror, he might have hit him. "Why are you smiling? I'm barely seventeen. Malia wants to be full-time coyote. And now we have this kid. Nothing about this is good."

Scott shrugged. "Look, I get how serious this is. But all of this could've turned out way worse, you know? The baby and Malia are both okay, and I'm just grateful for that."

"So am I, okay? But that doesn't totally erase the fact that I've gotten myself into a colossal mess here." His expression grew sadder. "And are we sure Malia's okay? Did you see her? She wouldn't even look at her."

"Well . . . neither have you."

"What are you talking about? Of course I have."

"Not really. You've barely looked at her since we've been out here."

"No, that's not . . ." Stiles trailed off, very pointedly looking Scott in the face. He tried to picture what the baby looked like in order to prove himself right, but he soon found that he couldn't do it. Frankly, all babies looked alike to him, but he couldn't even remember if she had hair or not. Up until now, he'd practically forgotten he was even holding her. She felt as if she weighed nothing, though somehow his body seemed mindful of her presence in his arms even if his brain wasn't. Even though he'd been pacing, the rest of his body had done very minimal amounts of his usual flailing, which was surprising considering the circumstances.

"Do it," Scott encouraged.

"And what, it'll fix everything? I'll just look at this baby and suddenly I'll be ready to take care of her? Everything's gonna magically be okay?"

"Stiles, just look at her."

He frowned in annoyance, stubbornly glaring at Scott. But Scott stared him down, so Stiles relented and finally looked at his baby. The first thing he noticed was that she did, in fact, have hair. A fair amount of it too, though it was thin and wispy and still slightly damp. He barely had the time to decide if he thought he saw more of Malia or himself in her when his field of vision suddenly blurred, and he could no longer see any of her features at all.

"Well?" Scott asked with a wide grin on his face.

"I don't know."

His smile faltered a bit, but he chuckled. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I can't see! I can't even see her," he burst out. His eyes were so filled to the brim with tears that she was nothing but a blur. He rubbed furiously at his eyes, but it didn't help for than a few seconds.

"So keep trying."

He nodded and took a deep breath before looking at her again. Thankfully this time he was able to keep the tears at bay, somewhat at least. Yes, she definitely looked like Malia, he decided. He saw her in the curves of the baby's lips, in the shape of her tiny ears and in her coloring. But as he looked closer, he thought he could see bits of himself too. She had impossibly long eyelashes for a newborn, much like he'd had, and she maybe even had his nose.

Stiles let out another shuddering breath. "Oh shit." Not exactly eloquent, but it was the only thing he could think to say to encompass the enormity of his situation. He had a kid. A living, breathing, tiny human being that was a part of him and part of Malia, and oh God, this was really, truly happening.

"You okay, dude?" Scott asked.

"Not really," he said honestly. He felt less manic, at least, but the fear was still strong. "Scott, I can't do this."

"What do you –"

Deaton reappeared then, and Stiles immediately asked, "How's Malia?"

"Physically, she's fine. Her body is already healing itself, and she's resting now. And I'm sure once she gets over the shock of it all, she'll want to see her baby," Deaton assured him before turning to Scott. "How is she? How's her breathing?"

"Steady. So is her heartbeat," Scott answered.

"Good. You know, most babies her size have trouble breathing on their own. But I guess this one is made of sterner stuff than most."

The realization hit Stiles like a ton of bricks. He hadn't even considered that yet. "Are you saying she's a werecoyote?"

"I'm fairly certain of it, yes. It tends to be a dominant trait."

Stiles looked again at the sleeping baby in his arms. He tried to picture what her life would be like as a werecoyote: the shifting, being chased by hunters, the struggle to control her urges. He didn't want that kind of life for her. Her life was already hard enough, being the child of two teenagers who weren't even together, but then to add everything else too? It was too much.

Deaton said, "Stiles, why don't you give her to me."

He was relieved to relinquish her, especially considering he was shaking so much that he was sure he would drop her. Deaton looked over her again. "It's amazing, but she really does seem to be perfectly healthy."

"But how is that even possible? She spent like eight months gestating in the womb of a coyote!"

"Honestly, I've never seen something to this extent, but I always thought it could be possible. Talia Hale shifted often while pregnant, and her children turned out fine."

"Well, Derek's still debatable."

"So what happens now?" Scott asked.

"Even with how well she's doing, we should get her to the hospital soon, just to be sure. I think she's well enough that we can wait until Malia rests for a while longer. I'm sure she'll want –"

"No!" Scott suddenly shouted, causing the other two to jump in surprise. "No, no, no –"

"Scott, what the –"

"Malia?!." Scott took off toward the exam room. He looked inside, hoping he was somehow mistaken. It was empty. He was already out of the room before Stiles and Deaton had even caught up. "She took off."

"Took off as in _gone_? When did that happen?"

"I don't know. I was so focused on making sure the baby was breathing that I didn't notice when she left. She can't have gotten far. I'm going to find her, okay?"

Scott shifted and ran out the back door. Deaton gave the baby back to Stiles. "Take her. I'll be right back. Maybe she didn't make it far."

"Wait!" Stiles's voice echoed through the now empty veterinary clinic. And there he stood, all alone with his newborn daughter. Naturally that was the moment she started to cry.

"Please stop crying," he pleaded as he bounced her lightly. "Other than capable parents, I really don't know what you need."

After five minutes that felt like an eternity, Deaton returned, and Stiles eagerly handed off the wailing baby to him. "I don't know what's wrong with her. She hasn't stopped crying since you two left. She's probably terrified to be alone with me. I can relate."

"She's probably just getting hungry."

"Right. Hungry." Stiles's head whipped around in search of Malia, but it was obvious Deaton had returned alone. "So I'm guessing you didn't find her."

"No, but Scott's still looking."

Another ten minutes and a somewhat less cranky baby later, Scott also returned alone. "I'm sorry. I couldn't find her."

"What do you mean? She can't have had that big of a jump on you."

"I think she was trying to confuse me, or maybe she's just confused herself. She shifted back and forth a lot, doubled back. I can't make any sense of it."

"Well, that's great," Stiles huffed, pulling anxiously at his hair. "That's just great." His already bad situation had suddenly gotten much worse, and he had no idea what to do next.

"Hey, we'll find her. I already called Isaac and Derek, and they'll keep looking –"

"Those two?" It came out more scathingly than he meant it, but every minute Malia was gone made him more worried, angry, and helpless. Then suddenly an idea came to him. He didn't know if it was right or wrong, but it was the only thing he had at the moment. "Scott, you should keep looking for her too."

"No, they can handle it for now. I'm going with you to bring the baby to the hospital."

"I'll be fine. I'd rather you were out there looking for her."

Scott hesitated. Something was off. "Well, you can't wait for Malia. You should get her to the hospital right now."

"I know. I'll get her there. But finding Malia is important too, so go."

Scott could always tell when Stiles was up to something, and this time was no different. His eyes narrowed in suspicion even though his tone was still light. "What, are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No." He answered too quickly.

That worried Scott even more. "What are you going to do?"

"I told you."

"_Stiles_."

"Look, I was just gonna call my dad, okay? I know, I get myself into this mess and my first thought is to call my dad, very mature. But he's dealt with this kind of stuff before, so I figured he'll know what to do."

"Okay." It made sense that Stiles wanted to call his dad, but something in Stiles's tone was still giving him pause. "Do about what exactly?"

"Well, if Malia doesn't come back."

"And if she doesn't?" Scott pressed. Stiles fidgeted, nervously rocking back and forth from one foot to another. "What are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know," he admitted, not looking Scott in the eye.

"But you're going to tell him she's yours." It's not a question. It's a statement because he knew Stiles would never do what it seemed like he was alluding to. "You're not going to let him just take her to the hospital and act like –"

"I don't know what I'm going to say, okay? I don't know what to do, Scott! So I'm just doing everything I can to not completely lose my mind right now." Stiles pulled out his phone, his fingers shaking so much that he can barely work it.

Scott shook his head. His expression was pleading. "Don't do it like this, man."

"She needs to go to the hospital, and I'm getting her to the hospital."

"Yeah, but . . . you have to tell him. Tell him like he's your dad, not the sheriff."

Stiles said nothing. He pressed the green call button, put the phone to his ear, and felt his heart rate increase with every ring.

"Don't do this. You'll regret it, Stiles. I know you will."

Stiles was acting as if he couldn't hear him, but he heard Scott's every word. But somehow the fear was guiding him, making him do something he thought he could never do. His reality was suddenly clear to him. Malia had taken off, and whether they found her or not, it seemed as if this was all too much for her to handle. He wasn't ready for any of this either, and he certainly couldn't imagine doing this on his own. So really, there was only one thing he could think to do, and that was to let her go.

When his dad answered, Stiles spoke, all the while staring at Scott with resolve. "Hey Dad, I need you to come over to Deaton's clinic right now. Just you. We've got a situation here."

* * *

**A/N:** _Thanks for reading, and for everyone who takes the time to review or likes my little 'ole fic enough to give it a fave. It seriously makes my day every time my phone goes off to tell me I have a new email. :)_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_ I feel like every new chapter is going to start with an apology, so here it goes. - I'm sorry this took so long to post. It's just been a rough couple of weeks. I really wanted to finish this before season 4 started, so let's see if I can manage it. _

_I hope the wait was worth it. _

* * *

When Stiles hung up the phone, he looked over at Scott with the guiltiest expression on his face. "It's done. You should try to find Malia."

Scott shook his head in disbelief. The fact that Stiles was considering this really worried him. "I'm not leaving you."

"You don't have to babysit me, Scott."

"I'm looking out for you, to make sure you don't do something you'll regret."

"I'm already up to my neck in regrets!" he replied, making the appropriate wild gesture to his throat.

"Then don't make another one!" Scott cried, practically frantic. Stiles said nothing else. Scott then turned to Deaton for help. "Doc, tell him he can't do this. Tell him he's making a mistake."

During the phone call and their entire exchange, Deaton had stood aside with the sleeping baby and never uttered a word. He thought it best for them to work it out themselves, and he felt no right to tell Stiles what he should do. Deaton was most concerned for the baby's health and safety, and Stiles was seeing to that. It was all he could ask of him.

Of course, he still had his opinion. "Stiles, you should think this through. Really think about the consequences of this decision. You'll be lying to your father, and I know how close you two are. And if you let her go, that'll be it. She'll be gone."

Stiles couldn't speak over the lump in his throat. He just shook his head again and again, his eyes wide. He felt as if he couldn't think, couldn't truly process everything that had happened in the last thirty minutes. Stiles was aware enough to know that what Scott and Deaton were saying was true. He knew he could lose her forever if he did this. But there was another part of him that was still in denial about it all.

Scott didn't know what more he could say. They were clearly at an impasse. Instead he said to Deaton, "Can I have her? If I ever want the chance to hold her, I guess I have to do it now."

Deaton put the baby in Scott's arms and left the three of them alone. The moment Scott looked at her, his face broke out into a huge grin. He knew he wasn't in Stiles's predicament, but he just couldn't understand how his best friend could look at that baby and not immediately fall in love with her. "She's so cute."

"Of course she is. I mean, she _is _mine." A joke, but the way he said it made it sound like the saddest joke in the world.

"Yeah, she's yours. Stiles, she's _your daughter. _How can you –"

"Don't do that. Unless you've had to make a decision like this, you can't understand."

"_I've _never had to make a hard decision before?" Scott asked, incredulous.

"Come on, of course you have. Just not this one."

"So make me understand."

Stiles really didn't know how to do that. He didn't know how to put into words the crushing weight of responsibility he felt at the thought of keeping a tiny helpless person alive, and not only that, but to then raise her into an actual decent human being. He couldn't describe how panicked he felt at the thought of the million little ways his whole life would change if he tried to take on that task. He had no idea how to say that he didn't even believe he was capable of taking care of her and that literally anyone on the planet would be better at it than him.

Instead of saying all of that, he said, "I just can't do it."

"But . . . you're her dad." Scott said it so simply, like it was the only thing that mattered. In his mind it was.

"That's not enough." His shaky hand reached out to brush down her wispy, light brown hair. Now that it was dry, it stuck straight up. No matter how much he ran a soft hand over her head, her hair would not stay down. He actually chuckled, but he stopped once he realized what he was doing and that Scott had been watching with a warm smile on his face.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Scott, I'm not sure of anything anymore."

* * *

It didn't take long for the Sheriff to arrive. Scott gave the baby to Deaton, who took her back to the exam room. The Sheriff walked in and went over to the teens. He never knew what to expect when his son called him about the "situations" he and Scott so often got themselves into.

"So what kind fresh hell are we dealing with now?" he asked wearily.

Seeing his dad standing there in front of him somehow made Stiles feel even more nervous than he had before, if that was even possible. "It's about Malia."

"Tate? I thought she was, uh, gone."

"She is gone. Well actually she _was_ gone. Then she was back until like twenty minutes ago and now she's gone again. So now we're trying to find her."

"Uh huh. Well, I can set up a search –"

"Derek, Isaac, and I are going to handle that part," Scott interrupted.

"Yeah Dad, we need your help with a more _human_ situation."

The Sheriff really studied his son then. Stiles appeared very jumpy and pale, at least more so than usual. His eyes narrowed in on the stretched out neck of his T-shirt. "Are you okay, kid? What happened to your shirt?"

"Me? I'm fine," he said, in a way that showed he wasn't fine at all. "This is, uh, just a hazard of childbirth."

"Of _what_?"

At that moment, they all heard the sound of the baby crying coming from the exam room. The Sheriff looked from Stiles to Scott, his mouth hanging slightly open in surprise. "Is that a baby? _Malia Tate's _baby?"

"I should probably start from the beginning, huh?"

"That would be helpful, yes."

Stiles recounted everything for him, from finding Malia in the woods, to her giving birth and then taking off. The only thing he didn't mention was his part in the whole thing. By the end, he could practically feel Scott's eyes on him, but Stiles wouldn't even look at him. He knew he had really disappointed him as soon as he'd decided to go through with the lie, and he couldn't bear to see it. Scott's disapproving looks were almost worse than his dad's.

"That is some story. Is the baby okay?"

"She's fine," Scott said, finally speaking up again. There was a hard edge to his voice. "Deaton said she still needs to be taken to the hospital though."

"Then what are we still standing here for –"

"Dad, wait." Stiles's heart was beating so hard he could hear a whooshing sound in his ears. "What'll happen to Malia if we bring the baby to the hospital and she isn't with us?"

He sighed. "Look, I can say I got an anonymous call, and that way nobody will be looking for her for abandonment –"

"Whoa, abandonment? It's not like she left the baby in the girls' room at the prom! She left her here with us."

"And maybe that can work in her favor if she came back and decided she wanted her child. But whether I give her name or not, it might be very difficult for her to get custody of her baby, all things considered."

"But – but doesn't California have a Safe Haven law?"

"Sure, every state does, but specifically in California a mother can leave a newborn up to three days old at a hospital and not be prosecuted."

"So that could work!"

He shook his head. "She would have had to bring the baby in herself. And last I checked this isn't a hospital."

"Close enough! And hey, considering Malia was a coyote when we brought her here –"

"_Stiles,_" he sighed, rubbing his forehead. He didn't have to say anything else. Stiles had heard his name sighed in exasperation his entire life, he knew what it meant.

"Does it really have to be her that does it?"

"It's preferable, yes, but the father is also allowed to relinquish the child."

"Right, okay." So the father could do it too. Stiles hadn't known that, but he couldn't decide if that changed anything. "And then what happens to the baby?"

"She'll probably end up in a temporary foster home. From there she could be bounced around a lot or hopefully adopted into a good home. Newborns usually have a much easier time getting adopted, so that's something."

Stiles had broken out in a cold sweat at the mention of a foster home and only felt sicker as his father had gone on. "And then she'll be gone."

"That's right. Since Malia left the baby here and not at the hospital, it would most likely be difficult for her to get her baby back, especially after she's put in a foster home. But under the Safe Haven law, Malia would've had up to fourteen days to change her mind and get her baby back."

Stiles nodded, looking down at the floor while nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He could still feel Scott staring at him, but to his credit Scott still hadn't said a word to out him no matter how much he clearly wanted to. Stiles's mind spun furiously, the only frantic thought in his mind being, _what do I do?_

The Sheriff watched his son's anxious reaction, then asked with concern, "Stiles, are you sure you're –"

"Hello Sheriff," Deaton said, returning to with the baby. They shook hands. "So, the boys got you up to speed then?"

The two men talked, and Scott used the distraction as an opportunity to pull Stiles away. "Do something!"

"I _am_ doing something."

"The only thing you're doing is freaking out. I said it and Deaton said it, and now your dad said it too. You finally realize that if you let him take her, you and Malia will never see her again. I know you don't want that to happen!"

"Of course not!" Stiles said, and he meant it. His eyes were starting to burn and he rubbed furiously at them. He didn't have time for tears. "But that still doesn't mean I can keep her."

Scott moved closer to look his friend in the face. "So don't make any big decisions right now. But if you bring her to the hospital yourself, you'll have fourteen days to decide. That's fourteen days to find Malia so you can decide what to do together."

Stiles knew he was right. He'd been thinking it himself. It would certainly buy them more time, but there was more to it than that. If he did this, Malia wouldn't get into trouble and would likely be able to see her baby again, if she wanted. He had to do that for her. Even though she had left, a part of him knew she would be upset if she returned to find out her baby was gone. He knew she would hate him for it. It only made sense because he already hated himself for even having considered it.

And then there was the baby. If he let her go like this, she could truly be gone for good. He'd never find out what happened to her – if she'd ended up in a good home, what kind of person she'd become, if she was happy. She would never know who her birth parents were, and she would spend her whole life thinking they hadn't cared. Maybe he couldn't be her father, but he didn't want to be anonymous either. She should know where she came from. It was the very least he could do for her.

Stiles let out a long, steadying breath and nodded his head. "Okay."

Scott let out a nervous laugh, so relieved Stiles was finally seeing reason. "That's great, Stiles, really. Come on."

When Stiles approached his dad, his stomach dropped at the sight of him holding the baby. He was holding his own grandchild and didn't even know it. It made him feel even worse for lying. "Dad, I'm going with you."

"Great. I could use an extra pair of hands."

"No, I mean . . . I'm going to give the baby up on Malia's behalf. Once I tell them I'm the father, then Malia won't get into trouble, right?"

The Sheriff frowned. "Sure, but I can't let you do that. It's admirable that you want to help your friend, but I don't think you should lie –"

"Dad, it's not a lie." He steeled himself to say the next part, taking in a deep breath before telling him, "She's mine."

The silence was deafening. The Sheriff's frown deepened, like his brain still couldn't quite comprehend what he'd just heard. "_Yours?_ You mean, you and Malia . . .?"

"Yep, me and Malia."

He stood there with his mouth agape as he stared at his teenage son, his teenage son who apparently now had a child of his own. He looked at the baby again with fresh eyes. Maybe this new information was coloring his perception a bit, but the more he looked at her, the more he thought he recognized some of Stiles's features in her face. And by that extension, he thought he could see a bit of Claudia as well.

Before he spoke he cleared his throat, but his voice was still gruff. "You're telling me this is my . . ."

"Your granddaughter," Deaton said with a smile.

"Granddaughter," he said, shaking his head in disbelief as if it was some foreign word that could never belong to him. "I have a granddaughter?"

"Seems that way." Stiles tried to play it off, even smile. But looking at his son, the Sheriff could see the heartbreak and panic in his eyes. There were a lot of emotions he was contending with himself, namely surprise, anger, and disappointment, but all of that could wait. His son needed him to be on his side.

The Sheriff went over to Stiles and pulled him into a sideways hug. "We'll figure this out together, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he sniffed.

"Well, let's get her to the hospital."

"Can I have one more minute? I'll meet you at the car."

He nodded and left with the baby. Stiles addressed Deaton first. "Thank you. If you hadn't been here . . ." He couldn't even finish the thought. He didn't want to imagine what could have happened to Malia and the baby if everything hadn't gone just so.

"I'm glad I could help. And try not to worry too much about Malia. She just went through a traumatic experience, and her reaction isn't all that surprising. But from what I know about her, she a tough girl, and she can come back from this."

"I really hope you're right." He then turned to Scott. "Just tell me you're going to find her."

There wasn't a trace of doubt in Scott's voice. "I'll find her, Stiles. I will."

* * *

For those first few minutes on the way to the hospital, Stiles and his father rode in silence. Stiles held the baby and watched her as she slept peacefully in his arms. Looking at her wasn't quite so scary anymore. In fact, he couldn't stop looking at her. It was as if he were trying to soak in every little thing about her that he could.

Finally, the Sheriff spoke up. "So . . . how'd this happen?"

"Oh, you know, the usual way."

"What I mean is, didn't we have the safe sex talk?"

"Yeah, we did. I remember it well because after it we couldn't look each other in the eye for like a week." The Sheriff just cut him a look and Stiles sighed. "It just kind of happened."

"Too fast to get a hold of a condom?"

"Well, we were in Eichen House at the time, so –"

"What?!" He looked over at Stiles in disbelief. "This happened in Eichen House? What were you thinking?"

"I think it's safe to say I wasn't thinking. All I can tell you is that my decision-making skills weren't really top-notch at that time, you know? The Nogitsune was about to repossess me, and this cute but shivering coyote girl wanted to share some body heat –"

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow at that last part but didn't comment.

"So we did it. I just wanted something that felt good because everything else was going so wrong. I know it was a really stupid thing to do. It's not an excuse, but it's all I've got."

He'd said all of that at the baby in a sad toneless voice, never looking over at his father as he spoke. The Sheriff sighed and reached over to put a gentle hand on the back of his neck. "Well, it's a better reason than most, I guess."

"That's good, because I was actually just really wasted."

He chuckled at that, still amazed at his son's ability to make jokes no matter the situation. He then remembered how Stiles had lied to him and how he might have kept lying to him. "Back there, at Deaton's, you weren't going to tell me."

Stiles finally looked at him, his expression guilty. "I would have told you. I don't think I could've gone through with it. Once you were there and laid everything out for me – that she'd end up in a foster home, that Malia and I might never see her again – I knew I had to tell you. I mean, I _wanted_ to tell you. That's why I called you." And as he said it, he knew it was true.

"I take a little comfort from that at least," the Sheriff said, finally taking his hand away to grip the steering wheel. "You know . . . she could still end up in a foster home. If you do this Safe Haven thing, she'll go to a home as soon as she's released from the hospital. Are you sure you want to do it like this?"

"Not really," he admitted. His hand brushed over her wild hair again even though he knew it was useless, but somehow the gesture calmed him. "But I'm not sure what else to do. I have no idea how to take care of a baby. We don't have anything at home for her. This just feels like the best I can do right now, at least until Malia comes back and we can make this decision together."

"What if she doesn't come back? Then what?"

"She's coming back."

"I'm not saying this to discourage you. I'm sure you're right. But I think you should also prepare yourself in case you have to make this decision by yourself. Have you considered the fact that she left was her already making her choice?"

"Sure. Look, I know this looks bad, okay? But you weren't there. You didn't see it. You didn't see how scared she was, how much pain she was in." His voice was shaking with emotion, and he used his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in an effort to stop the tears that were threatening to return. "Dad, I know I'm the pessimist in this family, but I have to believe that she's coming back because . . . I can't imagine having to decide this on my own."

* * *

**A/N: ** W_hile I spent the last couple of days editing this, I had this song "Fools in Love" by Inara George on repeat. I don't know why exactly, it just started to remind me of this story, especially this line - "_Everything you do, you do it for your baby love." _Of course, the song is about romantic love, but in my mind it still kind of works. I mean, the title to this, "This Love" isn't really about romantic love either. Now that this fic has a baby on board, I think you know what it really means. _


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **So I think it's safe to say I _won't _be finishing this before the new season starts. That's okay, maybe it'll be good to include more canon things into my story, even if only in passing. And again, sorry it took a while to get this up. I went on vacation for four days, and then I just kept myself away from the computer/internet for a while once I got back. And unfortunately, I also just couldn't get myself to write. Anyway, hope you like this.

* * *

As soon as Stiles and the Sheriff walked into Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, they were met with the usual blast of cold air and the vague smell of disinfectant. Stiles held the baby closer and made sure she was bundled up well enough in her blanket. The ER was fairly empty for a Saturday night in Beacon Hills, and the reception area had a few sparse Fourth of July decorations.

When they got to the front desk, both Stiles and the Sheriff breathed an involuntary sigh of relief when they saw Melissa there. The part of Stiles that saw Melissa as a sort of mother-figure in his life had been inexplicably nervous at the idea of her being there. The thought of telling her and seeing her reaction felt almost as distressing at the thought of telling his dad had been. But then when he'd seen her standing there, he was grateful she would be the one to help him. He wouldn't trust anyone else.

Upon seeing that neither Stilinski appeared to be hurt or especially panicked, Melissa smiled and walked over to them, taking a moment to even notice the tiny baby in Stiles's arms. "Hi, what brings you two . . . is Stiles holding a baby?" Her face showed a certain amount of concern. She'd known Stiles for a very long time, but even for him this was unexpected.

"Yeah, she's a newborn, about an hour old?" Stiles nodded in agreement and the Sheriff continued, "We're bringing her in under the Safe Haven law."

"Usually it's the mother who brings the baby in. Do you know who she is?"

"Malia Tate."

"She, uh, didn't know she was pregnant," Stiles said. The more he said it, the more unbelievable it sounded. "So after she had the baby she . . . took off. We were kind of hoping we could keep her out of this?"

Melissa stepped forward and removed the stethoscope from around her neck in order to listen to the baby's breathing. "I don't know. Child Protective Services are going to ask who brought her in. It has to be the child's mother, though I guess the father would be . . ."

She trailed off when she saw the look on Stiles's face then, all wide-eyed and nervous. Somehow in that moment, with the sound of the baby's heartbeat in her ears, she knew. She looked up at the Sheriff in surprise. He nodded with a strained and sad sort smile on his face. Melissa looked at Stiles again. It broke her heart to see his chin slightly shaking as he looked at his baby. _His baby. _It was hard to imagine.

"Oh Stiles," she said, putting a comforting hand on his back. He had to be so scared, so sad and guilty to be giving her up. She could feel herself tearing up on his behalf. Not knowing what else to say in that moment, she settled on, "She's beautiful."

"That she is," the Sheriff agreed.

"Sarah?" Melissa said, glancing over her shoulder to another nurse standing nearby. "We've got a Safe Haven baby here, only an hour old. Can you bring her up to the NICU? Let them know we have a possible preemie but her heart and breath sounds are good."

Sarah nodded and approached Stiles with a friendly smile. She reached for the baby, but Stiles took an unconscious step backward. Suddenly this was all happening too fast, and he needed answers before he could just hand her off to a stranger.

He asked Melissa, "What's gonna happen to her?"

"They'll do some tests on her to be sure she's healthy, especially since she's on the small side. They'll check her lungs to be sure she's breathing fine on her own, things like that."

"How long will she have to be in the hospital?"

"If there aren't any complications, she shouldn't need to be here any longer than two or three days."

"Okay." At that Sarah stepped forward to take the baby, but Stiles backed away again. He could feel his arms shaking and the baby was starting to fuss again, but he couldn't let her go just yet. There was one more thing he needed to know. "Wait, if – if I do this, does that mean I have to leave?"

"You don't need to stay," the Sheriff told him. "That's the whole point of the law."

"I know. I just don't want to leave her yet. Not until I'm sure she's okay."

"Of course you can stay," Melissa smiled kindly.

Once he was sure this wasn't the last time he'd see her, he finally let Sarah take her from him. As he watched her walk away the baby, he somehow felt relieved and lonely all at the same time. Relieved because it physically pained him to look at her when he knew he would likely be giving her up, but he was still sad to suddenly have her farther than a room away from him since the moment she'd been born.

Melissa turned to Stiles and said, "We have some forms for you to fill out, if you're willing. And I'll update you as soon as I can." When Stiles didn't respond, she leaned closer to look him in the eyes. "I promise we'll take very good care of her."

* * *

A couple of hours later, the Sheriff returned from the hospital cafeteria with some food, but Stiles didn't have the stomach for it. The Sheriff chewed on a stale sandwich and watched Stiles pace in front of him.

"They should've updated us by now, right?"

"I'm sure she's fine. You know, it's getting late –"

"Not until Melissa comes back." Stiles pulled out his cell phone and checked it. No missed calls or texts. Frustrated, he shoved it back into his pocket.

"Still nothing?"

"No, Scott hasn't texted me back yet."

"It's already after nine o'clock. Are you sure you don't want something to eat? This sandwich isn't half bad."

"Liar," he smirked and continued pacing.

The Sheriff kept watching him with a slight frown. Seeing his kid so nervous and upset was making him lose his appetite too. He put away the sandwich and sighed, rubbing at the stress headache that was building at his temple. "Would you sit down at least?"

When Stiles didn't make the move to sit, the Sheriff got up to take hold of him and forcibly sat him in the seat beside his own. Not that this did much good, as Stiles's legs still jumped and his fingers drummed nervously on his knees.

The Sheriff opened his mouth to speak, to offer any platitude that could possibly calm his son, but he was interrupted by Melissa's return. Stiles saw her approaching and practically jumped out of his seat. "How is she?"

Melissa smiled, which calmed Stiles's nerves somewhat. Bad news didn't come with a smile. "She's doing well. Her doctor thinks she was born between 35 and 36 weeks, which is considered premature, but she's breathing fine on her own. For the most part, she's healthy and doing surprisingly well."

"For the most part?" Stiles asked. Naturally he'd zeroed in on that part.

"Her weight is lower than we'd like. She's only 5 lb. 3 oz."

"Is that bad? I mean –" Stiles wiped away at the sweat that was forming on his brow. He hated the thought of her being sick because they'd been careless. "Sure, she's small, but . . ."

"As long as she's able to put on weight, she should be fine. She already ate for the first time, and she seems to be a really good eater."

The Sheriff smiled. "Well, that's good to hear."

"What else?" Stiles asked. Somehow he knew there was more.

"Her body temperature is a little low. They've put her under a heat lamp to raise it."

"What causes something like that?" The Sheriff wondered.

"It's a normal health issue with most preemies. Sometimes it's an indicator of an infection, but so far there are no signs that she has one. In fact, she's already improving surprisingly fast. Her doctor and nurses are amazed at how well she's doing, considering the circumstances."

"That's great," the Sheriff chuckled in relief as he clapped Stiles on the back. "She's a strong one."

"You have no idea," Stiles said.

"What do you . . . oh. You're saying she's a werecoyote, like Malia?" When Stiles only looked at him, the Sheriff nodded, "Right, of course she is."

Stiles really hadn't known how his father would react to that piece of information. It was one thing to know your kid was friends with supernatural creatures, but it was quite another to learn your own infant grandchild was a werecoyote too. "That doesn't change anything for you, does it?" He didn't think it would, be he still had to be sure.

The Sheriff was shocked by the question. "No, of course not. She's still my . . . my granddaughter. Look, that's not what's important right now. She's first and foremost a baby with needs, so let's focus on the best way to get those needs met, okay?"

"Even if the best way isn't with me."

He sighed, pulling Stiles in closer. "Yes, even then."

"Stiles, would you like to see her again?" Melissa asked.

He took a moment to think about it. All that time he'd been waiting, he'd wanted to see her one more time before he went home. But now something was giving him pause. "Is she in one of those incubator things, hooked up to machines and stuff?"

"Yes, she's in an incubator for now, and she's hooked up to a monitor and has an IV."

"Ah . . ." Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head a little. He hated the idea of her being stuck with needles. "I don't think I can see her like that."

"You know, Stiles, it looks a lot scarier than it really is –"

"Yeah, sure," he interrupted, backing away from her, from both of them. "Still, I just, uh, I can't stay."

Before he knew what he was doing, he had turned around and started walking away. In that moment, nothing felt more important than getting some air. In the three or so hours since the baby had been born, Stiles felt as if he'd had yet to take a full breath. He just needed to get away for a while, to panic in private, to think, to decide what to do next. And he couldn't do that in the hospital.

Stiles made himself feel better about leaving her by promising himself he'd be back. It wasn't the last time he would see her. He'd back with Malia. She'd see her baby, and they would talk about what to do and no matter the choice they made, they would at least make it together. It was a small hope, but he held onto it.

The Sheriff watched his son's retreating back, and turned to Melissa. They exchanged heartbroken looks, as they so often did when it came to their children. "I should get him home."

"He'll be fine," she assured him. "They'll all be fine."

"I hope so."

"Oh, I wanted to give him this." Melissa handed him a piece of paper. "It's a copy of the code on her ID bracelet, in case he wants see her again or, you know, get her back."

"Thanks," he said, folding it up and putting it in his pocket. Then suddenly, the Sheriff was all business. "Listen, has anyone contacted Child Protective Services yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Good. I know in these situations, the hospital is supposed to contact CPS as soon as possible, but technically they have up to 48 hours. I'm just asking you to give him 24."

She smiled and put a comforting hand on his arm. "Of course I can do that."

"Thank you." He squeezed her hand briefly before leaving to find his son.

* * *

When they returned home, the house was completely dark. Stiles felt like he hadn't been home in days, but it had really only been a few hours. They flipped on lights as they walked through the house, and Stiles made his way to the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal he didn't really want. He sat at the table for a while and watched his cereal grow soggy. Finally the Sheriff pulled out a chair and sat with him in silence until Stiles began to rise to bring his bowl to the sink.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Stiles –"

"Dad, I honestly don't even know what I'd say at this point. I'm just gonna go to bed, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

Stiles hurried to his room. He could feel the anxiety building steadily, and he didn't want to subject his dad to it. He could feel the familiar weight settling on his chest and the choking sensation in his throat as his hands shook uncontrollably. Stiles told himself to stay calm, to breathe normally. Easier said than done, but eventually he calmed himself down enough to try and get some sleep.

He got a solid two hours of sleep before another panic attack woke him up. "Damn it, damn it, damn it," he wheezed as he sat perched on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. His eyes were starting to burn, and he rubbed them furiously. "No, I'm not doing that," he told himself aloud. "I'm fine. You're fine."

At that moment, his cell phone started to ring. He quickly grabbed it before even checking to see who it was, but he guessed, "Scott?"

"Yeah, sorry it's taken me a while to get back to you. We didn't want to lose her trail."

"So you found her?!"

"Well . . ."

And just as fast as his excitement had appeared, it was gone. "You really haven't found her yet?"

"We've been tracking her for miles. We thought she'd be exhausted by now, but she just keeps running."

"I guess when you've got something to run from . . ." he trailed off, and they sat in awkward silence.

Scott cleared his throat. "How's the baby?"

"She's fine, I guess. I mean, she's really small and cold and apparently covered in wires, but fine."

"That doesn't sound fine, Stiles."

"No, don't listen to me. She's fine, really. Ask your mom, she was there."

"Okay, good. Look, we're not giving up yet. It's only been a few hours. We'll keep looking, and we'll find her."

Stiles thanked him again, they said their goodbyes, and he crashed back onto his pillow. He just lay there for the longest time, wondering what he should do. Perhaps he should have offered to help them look for Malia instead of just lying there and doing nothing. Even though he was just a human, he'd always helped before. He was the one who figured things out. Hadn't he helped out as much as anyone when Jackson was terrorizing everyone as the kanima, or when Jennifer was sacrificing people left and right? Hadn't he gone through as many precarious situations as anyone else, armed with nothing more than a baseball bat? Yes, he had, but somehow in this situation he felt utterly and completely useless. So he stayed exactly where he was.

Right before he fell asleep again, he thought of calling Lydia. In the months after Nogitsune and everything that had happened last semester, Stiles and Lydia had actually become real friends. He wasn't sure how it happened. It was a sort of gradual thing that caught them both by surprise. More than once he'd comforted her when she'd cried about Aiden. Once or twice he sat with her in Allison's hospital room when she didn't want to be there alone as she waited for her best friend to wake up. And during those rare occasions when he'd doze off while they watched a movie, a couple times he'd woken up screaming from a Nogitsune-fueled nightmare and she'd calm him. He was always embarrassed when it happened, so they didn't really talk about it much, but she'd take his hand and just sit with him for a while. Lately it seemed they hung out together more often than not. He supposed he would always want more, but in the last few months, he'd found that being Lydia Martin's friend was a great thing to be.

He picked up his phone, went to his contacts, and his finger hovered over her name. Lydia wasn't the type to be home on a Saturday night, especially when she was seeing someone new, which she was. But if she was home then she was probably asleep, it being past midnight and all. It would be rude of him to wake her, wouldn't it? He silently argued with himself, thinking that Lydia wouldn't care what time it was if it was something as big as this. But every time he went to press the call button, he stopped himself. Sighing heavily, he finally put the phone away and pulled the covers over his head.

Stiles tossed and turned all night. For every hour of sleep he got, another hour was spent trying to fall back asleep after another fit of anxiety would wake him. At six o'clock, after nearly an hour of staring at the ceiling, he heard his dad moving around in the kitchen and decided he may as well get up and join him. He left on the same pants he was wearing, but traded his stretched out "Jawesome" T-shirt for a plain white one and a long-sleeved plaid. Stiles took a moment to run his fingers over the stretched neck of his old T-shirt, recalling ever vivid detail from the day before when he'd been wearing it. Then with a sad little smirk, he threw the shirt onto a chair. He'd been meaning to retire that one anyway, as it wasn't really his style anymore.

Once he made his way to the kitchen, he found his dad already dressed in his uniform. "Hey Dad."

"Morning. What are you doing up already?"

"I didn't really sleep much. What about you, already going into work?"

"Yeah, since I took off so suddenly yesterday, I figured I should go into the station and see how they're holding up."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Dad, they can survive without you for a few hours."

"I know . . . actually, if you wanted me to stick around instead, I could do that. We could talk –"

"No, no, no, don't do that," Stiles said, waving his hands. "You should go to work."

"I don't want to leave you alone. We could go to back to the hospital if you wanted –"

"Actually, I was going to head over there soon. You don't have to come with me."

The Sheriff studied his son. He didn't like the idea of Stiles sitting at the hospital by himself. "What about Scott? Or how about giving Lydia a call? Have you told her yet?"

"Not yet, but maybe I'll call her when I get there." And maybe he would. Or wouldn't. Honestly, he didn't know what he was going to do. His brain was still a jumbled mess and now every tiny decision felt like a matter of life and death. In fact, when he had to choose between two types of jam to put on his toast, he eventually went with neither. He stuck the dry piece of toast in his mouth, waved and said a muffled goodbye to his dad, and grabbed his keys.

"Wait, you need this!" The Sheriff said, handing him a folded piece of paper. "You'll need to show the nurses this copy of the baby's ID code if you want to see her."

"Right," Frankly, he wasn't sure what he would do when he got there, but he took it anyway and put it in his pocket. "See ya."

When he got to the hospital, Stiles found a small waiting room near the NICU where worried extended family members anxiously awaited for news on tiny, premature babies. Thankfully it was empty, and Stiles took a seat. He pulled out his phone again. No messages from Scott, and try as he might, he still couldn't call Lydia.

He wanted to see the baby, he really did. He wanted to be sure that she was still improving, that she was breathing and eating and growing like she should. As the night had gone on, he'd felt increasingly guilty for leaving her there alone. Of course, sitting in a waiting room wasn't doing her much good either, but he was too anxious to see her quite yet. He actually felt as if he was glued to his seat, and no amount of silent pep talks to himself could get him leave it.

Still, he felt closer to her there. Even though she wasn't physically with him, he took some comfort in knowing she wasn't far away. He slumped down in his chair, closed his eyes, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks again to those who've been reading, reviewing, and favoriting! Also, I know I'm not the most reliable updater, so thanks for sticking with me. Having never written a chapter fic before, I didn't realize that it's kind of hard, heh. Especially considering it just keeps getting longer and longer than I anticipated! And I guess one little tease I can give is that now I'm finally getting to the point of the story where more of the characters will meet Baby Stilinski. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **_I thought it would be appropriate to have more Stiles with his daughter to celebrate Father's Day today. And two chapters posted in one week? It's a miracle! Seriously though, don't get used to this. I had a rarely productive week. Trust me, it won't happen again. ;)_

* * *

It was the smell that woke him first; that wonderful fresh coffee smell, and it was coming from directly under his nose. Stiles opened his eyes to find a beautiful strawberry blond standing in front of him. She wore a floral print dress, with her lips stained pink and her long hair worn down in loose waves. Perfectly put together, no matter the situation. She held two cups of coffee, one of which she still had stretched out to him.

"Hey Daddy," Lydia grinned cheekily.

"Oh God," he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his bleary eyes. "This is not the context I thought I'd ever hear you call me Daddy."

"Did you want this coffee in your lap?"

"Please don't do that. I need it."

Stiles took the coffee from her gratefully, taking a long sip and slightly burning his tongue in the process, but he didn't care. Generally he wasn't much of a coffee drinker considering he was already jittery enough without it, but this particular cup was very welcomed.

"Oh, this is good. Thanks Lydia, really. I hardly slept at all last night."

"No problem," she said, sitting beside him. She frowned slightly at his short, disheveled hair and the dark circles under his eyes. She watched him gulp down his coffee with an expectant look on her face, and when he wasn't forthcoming quickly enough for her liking, she offered, "So . . ."

He swallowed nervously. "So."

"So you and Malia have a baby."

He could always rely on her to be blunt. "Yep."

"Hmm." She watched as his fingers drummed on the lid of his cup. She knew him well enough now to know all of his little tells that indicated when he was feeling anxious. "I couldn't believe it when I heard."

"Then imagine my surprise. How'd you find out, anyway?"

"Isaac called Allison last night, and then Allison called me this morning. And Scott told Kira too, of course, so now everyone knows."

"Nice to know the Beacon Hills grapevine is still going strong," he said, holding his coffee cup up in cheers and taking another swig.

"What I want to know is, why didn't I hear it from you?"

He choked a bit, coughing and sputtering as he tried to come up with something to say. She appeared genuinely hurt at his choice to exclude her from such a big moment in his life. Stiles never wanted to cause her pain. He reached over to take hold of her free hand and sucked in a breath before answering. "I don't know. I tried to so many times, really –"

"But don't we talk about basically everything at this point? Aren't we second best friends?"

He smiled at the memory of them coming up with the "second best friends" thing. It was during her last birthday party, after nearly everyone else had gone home. They'd both had a few drinks and started talking about how they were nearly best friends, except for their respective best friendships with Scott and Allison, of course.

"So that," Stiles had slurred, "would make us like, second best friends."

"Yeah!" She'd agreed, a little overenthusiastically. "Hold on . . . do you mean _second best _friends or second _best friends_?"

"Right! Wait . . . what?" he'd asked, and then they'd laughed until they forgot what they were even laughing at in the first place.

The next morning, both of them incredibly hungover, she'd waved goodbye and called out, "See you, second best friend."

He'd grinned. It was amazing they both even remembered it. It had been a great party, better than her last wolfsbane infused one. "See you, second best friend."

After that, it just kind of stuck.

He squeezed her hand now, and she squeezed right back despite her slightly hurt feelings. "Of course we are. It's just, this is so big, you know? It's so hard to actually even say the words. To say Malia and I . . . do you see what I mean?! I know you know and I still can't say it!"

She smiled softly. "Well, you don't have to tell anyone else now. And just so you know, everyone is rallying together to help you. Allison and Kira are out there with the guys right now trying to find Malia."

"Yeah," he huffed as another wave of guilt washed over him, "While I'm here sitting vigil over the waiting room."

"You're here with your daughter, that's what matters."

He winced. "Lydia, don't call her my –"

"But she is!" she cried. "She _is _your daughter. Speaking of which, how is she doing by the way? I probably should have led with that."

"Well, you were so busy giving me a hard time –"

"_Stiles."_

He hung his head, his expression sheepish. He didn't want to admit it to her, but he had no choice. "I kind of haven't . . . seen her yet today."

Lydia's mouth dropped open in surprise, her eyes wide. "Are you kidding me? What are you doing in here?"

"Oh, do you see this place?" he said, gesturing around them. "Yeah, this is a waiting room. This is where one waits."

She was not impressed. "So what are you waiting for?"

Stiles didn't have an answer for that. He floundered, searching for the words to convey just how terrified he still felt. But before he could say anything, Lydia stood and pulled him out of his seat. He grudgingly allowed her to guide him out of the room and down the hall, but not without trying to discourage her.

"I'm sure she's fine. You don't have to drag me –"

"Apparently I do! Now come _on_!" They stayed hand-in-hand all the way to the NICU, her heels clacking loudly on the linoleum as she marched ahead with purpose.

When they arrived, they stood outside the large window and looked inside. There were only three babies in there, two of which had their parents by their sides. Lydia pointed to the incubator farthest from the window. "She's gotta be in that one. Let's go, I want to see her!"

"Lydia, wait." This time when she pulled him, he stood his ground. He felt physically sick at the thought of going in there. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because, I mean, look at her in there! She's in one of those incubators, hooked up to machines and God knows what else. I just . . . I don't want to see her like that."

"Is that what this is about? Stiles, she needs you," she said, her voice soothing, comforting. She put a hand on his back and was surprised to feel him shaking. "Those other babies have their parents. She should have hers too."

He felt ashamed. She didn't know everything that had happened. Of course she didn't, how could she? "Lydia –"

"Look, a nurse is coming out. She'll let us in." She took off to speak to her, and Stiles slowly followed behind, the feeling of dread growing with every step. "Excuse me, we're here to see Baby Stilinski."

The nurse looked confused. "We don't have a Baby Stilinski."

"Of course you do!" Lydia insisted. She pointed at Stiles. "You have to. She's his baby."

"Your baby?" the nurse asked in surprise.

"Uh, yeah, but her name isn't Stilinski." He anxiously rubbed the back of his neck, determinedly not looking at Lydia, though he could feel her eyes on him. "She's the Safe Haven baby."

Lydia stared at him upon this revelation, immediately saddened by hearing it, and by seeing his tortured expression. She didn't know what to say.

"Ah, that's right, Melissa told us about you. Still, I'm not sure I can let you in to see her. We don't have a protocol for this kind of situation. Having a parent stick around after giving up their baby under the Safe Haven law is unprecedented."

"Well _he's_ unprecedented, okay?" Lydia said, jerking her thumb at Stiles. "From what I've read about the law, there's technically no rule against him seeing her, is there? It's his baby, so he should be allowed to be with her!"

Her expression showed she was clearly no fan of Lydia's, but she sighed and turned to Stiles. "I can only let you in if you have proof that you're her father. Do you have the copy of her ID code?"

"The code?" he asked. Then he remembered the piece of paper his father had handed to him that morning. "Oh yeah, I have it!" He dug through his pockets and pulled out the crumbled piece of paper. He did his best smoothing it out and gave it to her, but it was still a wrinkled mess.

She raised an eyebrow at the state of it, but once looking it over she grudgingly said, "This looks right, but I'll have to check to be sure. Are you here to reclaim her?"

"No! I mean no, I . . . I just want to see her."

"Okay, follow me." She led them inside the NICU, but Stiles hung back for a moment. Lydia put her hand on his back again and gave him a reassuring smile. He smiled back and nodded, took a deep breath, and they walked inside together.

The first thing he noticed was all of the different sounds. There was so much beeping and buzzing, but the most upsetting was the sound of the ventilators that breathed for the other two, tinier babies that were in there. Stiles couldn't look at them. That could have easily been his baby.

The nurse pointed out a nearby sink. "Wash your hands there. With soap and warm water." They did as she said, and then she led them over to the incubator that held his baby. She introduced them to the nurse standing beside her, a middle-aged nurse who smiled at them warmly as they approached. "Maggie, this young man says he's Baby Girl Doe's father."

"Stilinski?" Maggie asked. When Stiles looked surprised, she said, "Melissa added a note to the baby's chart, in case you came by. She had a feeling you'd be back and insisted we let you in to see your baby."

Stiles felt another surge of gratitude for Melissa McCall. "Thank you. I know it's weird that –"

The other nurse handed the piece of paper back to Stiles. "I compared it to the code on her ankle bracelet. It's a match. Just so you know, parents are allowed to stay as long as they want except during shift changes or during emergencies. You are not allowed to sleep here. Only a maximum of two guests are allowed to visit the baby with a parent present. If you have any other questions, ask Maggie. Now excuse me." With a curt nod, the nurse left them.

"She rules the NICU with an iron fist, huh?" Lydia said.

"She's the charge nurse, so she's supposed to be bossy. And like she said, I'm Maggie. I'll be your baby's primary nurse during the day shift. I only met her a couple of hours ago, but I think I've grown fond of her already!"

"You probably say that about all of them," Stiles said with a half-smile. He moved closer to the baby, looking at her through the top of the incubator. He couldn't believe how much she seemed to have changed in just a few hours. Her color seemed better, and it was odd but somehow endearing to see her clad in only an over-large diaper and a pink and white striped hat. Still, he hated seeing her covered in wires, looking so tiny and helpless.

Lydia moved closer too, peering at her through the holes in the incubator's sides. She lit up when she set eyes on her. "Oh Stiles, look at her! She's so small. I think I see a little bit of both of you in her."

"Ah, I didn't think you were her mother," Maggie said. "You certainly don't look like you've just had a baby."

"Thank you!"

"You, on the other hand, do," she told Stiles.

"Thanks?"

"Can we touch her?" Lydia asked.

"Of course! I'll give you some time alone with her, and I'll be right over there if you need anything."

"Thanks." Lydia put a hand inside and took hold of her much smaller one. The baby's hand wrapped tightly around one of her fingers, and she smiled widely up at Stiles. "Did you see that? She grabbed my finger! I mean, I know it's just a reflex all newborns have, but it's still really sweet."

"Yeah, science is adorable." Stiles put both hands braced on top of the incubator as he stared down at her, wondering what to do next. What if his dad was right and Malia wasn't coming back? What if he really would end up having to decide what to do on his own? It seemed too hard, too impossible of a task for him to take on alone.

"Stiles?" Lydia said, looking up at him with those big teary eyes of hers. She'd been watching him and could practically see the wheels spinning in his head. He looked so conflicted, so sad. "Why didn't you say something?"

He knew exactly what she meant, and he shrugged. "It hadn't come up."

"Well it has now," she said stubbornly. When he only nodded, she continued. "Are you really going to do it? Are you going to go through with this Safe Haven thing?"

"I don't know." He dabbed at his nose with long sleeve of his shirt. He knew if he didn't get his emotions under control, his whole face would be leaking soon, and he couldn't break down now. "I mean, I guess for now it's just temporary until they find Malia."

"And when they do?"

"Then we'll talk about what's best for her. For all of us."

"Do you even know what that is?"

"No, not really."

Lydia said nothing for the longest time. She just watched him watch his baby. When she finally spoke up, her voice was soft, almost a whisper. "I'm so stupid."

"Lydia Martin, stupid? How do you figure?"

"I don't know why, but when Allison told me I just assumed . . . I don't know. I know how big this is and what a huge responsibility it would be. And I knew you had to be freaking out and scared, but there was still a part of me that assumed that maybe you'd keep her. That you and Malia would figure it somehow."

"I think you have too much faith in me," he said glumly.

"After everything we've been through together, I think I have the right amount of faith in you."

"Yeah, except you don't know what I did. Or what I almost did. Maybe you wouldn't be so nice to me if you knew." He moved away from the incubator and started to pace, his voice suddenly impassioned. "God, I almost let my dad just take her away, without even telling him she was mine. _I_ almost did that, Lydia!"

She was shocked by the admission, but she tried to hide it. She finally took her hand out of the incubator so she could go over to him. Her voice shook with emotion at seeing him so upset. "But you didn't do it, right?"

"So what? I considered it, didn't I? I actually entertained the thought of just letting her go. I mean, who does that? A horrible person, that's who."

"Hey, don't talk about my second best friend like that, all right?" It actually got a small smile out of him, which she'd been hoping for. "Stiles, it doesn't matter, okay? You didn't go through with it. It's only a mistake if you do it, and you didn't. So let it go."

"Fine," he exhaled, running his arm across his eyes. "But that doesn't mean I could take care of her, that I'd be good for her."

"I . . . I'm sure you'd be –"

"I mean, let's face it, she could do better than us. I've still got a year left of high school. Malia hasn't made it past the third grade! I'm just some spastic kid, and for all I know she still wants to be in the woods, living as a coyote."

At that moment, he felt a new sensation, one he hadn't felt yet since this whole thing had happened. Anger. "I hate her," he spat out. "I hate her for just leaving me here to deal with this by myself."

As soon as he said it, his legs felt weak. He noticed a nearby rocking chair and sunk into it, putting his head in his hands. He hadn't meant it, of course. Sure he was angry, but he certainly didn't hate Malia. She was still his friend, maybe even more. He was so worried about her, and he just really wanted her to come back. "No I don't. I just can't believe this is happening."

"I know," Lydia said, going over to kneel beside him. She put her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around one of his, pulling him in close.

They sat like that for a while, neither of them saying anything. Once Stiles felt composed enough to speak again, he cleared his throat and let out a whooshing breath he felt like he'd had pent up inside him ever since they'd walked into the NICU. "I'm gonna hold her. Do you want to hold her?"

"I'd love to."

They stood and went over to Maggie, who'd been determinedly trying not to listen in on them. Stiles asked, "Can I hold her?"

"Of course." First she unfolded a blanket and waved Stiles closer. She told him to make a cradle with his arms, and she draped the blanket over them. Then she went over to the incubator and lowered one of its walls.

As they watched her adjust wires and prepare to take her out, Lydia noticed his anxious expression and said airily, "You know, I was in one of these things."

It managed to distract him for a moment, at least. He looked over at her in surprise. "Really? You never told me that before."

"It never really came up," she shrugged. "I was born at 33 weeks, and I was in the NICU for almost a month. I was barely four pounds."

"Wow, you were even smaller than her," he said as he watched Maggie carefully lift the baby. He wished she'd hurry. He felt a little silly standing there with arms that way, as if he were holding an invisible baby. But he also just really wanted to hold her again, and he was surprised to find that he'd actually missed her.

"Yeah, but look at me now. A little short maybe, but otherwise I turned out great."

"See, a real life success story. So, you ready Dad?"

_Dad_. He wasn't sure if he could ever get used to that, or if he would even get the chance to. "As ready as ever, I guess."

Maggie gently placed the baby in his arms and wrapped her up in the blanket. Thankfully he could no longer see wires taped to her delicate skin, or the IV still in her arm. Seeing her bundled up like that, it wasn't all that different from when he'd held her the first time. As soon as she was settled in, he straightened her little hat, which had gone a bit askew in the transfer. She was fast asleep, and he hoped she would wake up so he could see her with her eyes open.

"Well she's adorable," Lydia said matter-of-factly. "And she looks healthy to me."

"How is she?" Stiles asked Maggie. "Is she getting better?"

"We're still having a little trouble regulating her body temperature, but she's improved so much. Apparently her doctor was considering letting her move to the nursery with the other healthy babies, but her other nurse found a small complication that made them decide to leave her on the monitor for at least 24 hours."

"What kind of complication?" His heart was already pounding.

"She has a mild case of apnea. It's a common problem in preemies, and it means that sometimes they just forget to breathe."

"Just?! Forgetting to breathe seems like kind of a big deal to me!"

Maggie gave him a reassuring smile. "I know it sounds scary, but they usually start breathing again fine on their own or simply when being touched. She's only had one incidence so far, and her previous nurse said she immediately responded to her touch. She still has the monitor just to be cautious, and an alarm will sound to alert us if it were to happen again."

Stiles wasn't sure if he was all that comforted by that. He leaned in to whisper to her, "Please don't forget to breathe, okay?" He held her for a few more minutes before offering her to Lydia. "Do you want to hold her now?"

"Sure, I'll try anything once."

He'd been getting ready to give the baby to her, but her response stopped him in his tracks. "I'm sorry, have you never held a baby before?"

She thought a moment. "I'm sure I have."

"You don't seem _that _sure."

The truth was, she'd never really thought of herself as a baby person. She didn't coo over them or ask to hold them. She'd never even had the opportunity to be around babies all that much. Lydia supposed she felt different about this particular one because she was Stiles's baby. She'd adore anyone who was a part of him.

"And when was the last time _you_ held a baby before her?" she asked.

"That's . . . irrelevant."

"Just give her to me."

Easier said than done. Stiles couldn't quite figure out how to hand her off, and Lydia wasn't quite sure how to pick her up without jostling her too much, and the wires made it even more difficult. Stiles shook his head and let out a chuckle, "God, we're hopeless aren't we?"

"Let me help," Maggie said. Like the pro that she was, she easily lifted the baby from Stiles's arms and put her in Lydia's.

"Oh wow." Lydia was positively beaming the moment she looked at her. "She's so pretty."

And just like that, she'd quickly become like those baby obsessed women she'd always rolled her eyes at. Stiles watched her with the baby, all the while wishing Malia was there too. She should be holding her baby, and it saddened him to think of her already missing the first day of their baby's life.

"Malia didn't hold her," he said over the lump in his throat. "She never even looked at her."

Hearing that broke her heart. Her lips formed a grim line as she tried to think of the right thing to say. "She must have been so overwhelmed," she said evenly.

"She was. The whole thing was . . ." He shook his head, still not able to describe the experience in any coherent way. "I just need her to come back."

"She'll be back," Lydia assured him. "Because it would be such a shame if she never got to see this precious little baby."

Stiles agreed. Even though seeing childbirth firsthand had felt almost traumatic, he was glad that he'd been there to see her enter the world. No matter how scared he was, or how overwhelmed with responsibility he felt, he could never be sorry that she existed. And even if they ultimately decided to give her up, he was still happy to have known her, if only for a little while.

* * *

**A/N: **_I think I was able to get this one written so much faster than the others because I was so excited to get to the part where Lydia meets her. It's funny how some chapters come so much easier than others, and this was the easiest chapter since the first one, even though it's the longest one so far. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it._


End file.
